Wednesday 30 September 2009

The first of many. Maybe.

A little about me and why i'm here.

I'm John Yossarian. The sharper guys and girls amongst you will probably already know that's not my real name. When people ask me about my name, I tell them it's Assyrian, because I'm an asshole like that.

I have orgasms and write about them for a living, because I'm not talented enough to be a proper writer and because I like orgasms. I live a double life (hence the pseudonym), my family doesn't know what I do for a living and a get a perverse thrill out of keeping it that way. Whenever they ask me about my job, I tell them I sell alternative health products, which is sort of true I guess. (I sell sex toys.)

I expect this blog will only be read by a handful of people who already know me in one way or another; generally speaking if you're reading this then I already consider you a friend. Thanks to three or four of you in particular. It's ironic that you are one of my closest friends online, and we haven't even met. (Ironic in an Alanis Morrissette sort of way, not really ironic.) But I guess that's pretty common these days. It's neither good nor bad, and if you're ever in Southampton drop me a line and I'll crack a bottle. Just watch your step when you get into my flat; the last thing you want is to slip on a patch of ID Millenium, go flying and land sphincter-first onto any of the suspicious objects I have lying around.

Maybe that's not the last thing you want.

But mainly it's for me. I kept a diary when I was a kid and I get goosebumps every time I cast my eyes across over the wrinkled pages and read the amazingly inconsistent handwriting. It's a strange thing; to be able to watch yourself develop and flourish, and hopefully this ridiculous blog might do similar things for me when i'm finally the richest, most successful man in the galaxy and I'm able to read back with my ancient eyes this garbled nonsense. I'm sure i'll cringe if I actually ever do read this back; I imagine all i'll be able to see is the steaming, putrid arrogance emanating from every godforsaken word. If that's true, so be it. Because what is past, is prologue.

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